


Miracle Mile

by yeehawing



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (Terribly), Canon-Typical Violence, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Deals With Human Emotions, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Needs a Hug, Connor Deserves Happiness, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, M/M, Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-07-30 16:43:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20100367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeehawing/pseuds/yeehawing
Summary: All Connor could think about his how close Amanda’s voice was; how cold and alone everything had been. He remembered the biting wind at his cheeks and how his teeth clattered, internal processors hitching at the frigid temperature.After the success of the android revolution, Connor still can’t grapple with his own new sense of free will. He’d been hacked in a last ditch effort to turn the tide of Markus’ revolution in CyberLife’s overwhelming favor. Connor had resisted then, but what about now? A lasting memory of a crazed deviant murderer has Connor doubting what he thought was the end of a long fight.





	Miracle Mile

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my new project that I hopefully won't drop on it's head! It's taken me a couple weeks just to get chapter one finished. That's kind of embarrassing but, hey, life happens.
> 
> The plot for this probably isn't the most daring nor original thing ever, since it's just Connor trying to cope with emotions post-game and having help from Hank and Markus (and yes, there is an attempt at slow burn between these two :^D) and the rest of the DBH cast (... but I hope my style somehow makes up for that). It's been a few years since I've written anything with a developing plot and multiple chapters. I do hope any fears I have going further into this project won't keep me from completing it!
> 
> I've chosen to not use Archive warnings as to stray from spoilers, but I'm also starting it off the bat with a Mature rating so I don't have to change it later. (I've also probably done a shit job on the tags, sorry 'bout that.) This work will have canon-typical violence, (possibly) suicidal thoughts, and most likely eventual smut. Nothing too intense, but things to still keep note of.
> 
> I'd also like to thank a good friend of mine, Leo, for being an amazing beta-reader and helping me with this!
> 
> Anyways, now that I've blabbered on long enough, I'll let you get to the first chapter. I hope you enjoy!

**DECEMBER 15, 2038  
3:15:02AM**

The interrogation room was cold and silver, it felt like eons since Connor had been here. In the truest reality, it had only been a few weeks. He could still see Carlos Ortiz’s HK400 sitting in the chair, fidgeting with his dark eyes—almost dark enough to swallow you whole and spit you back out—dashing around the room in a panic.

That android was nothing but a ghost now, or perhaps his body was salvaged the week after Markus’ revolution and he was wandering around New Jericho. Finally a master of his own body and decisions.

Connor forced himself to focus as he sat down, eyeing the deviant… the android… in front of him carefully. He was a suspected murderer, but not of humans. Other androids. Non-deviated androids, at that. When Hank and Connor had received the case five days ago, neither of them had expected such a thing.

Too many questions came to mind. Androids were still on the cusp of being formally recognized as an entirely new intelligent species. Would they have to persecute the android just the same as any human murderer? Possibly. Laws were still being implemented, and Connor knew that would interfere with the case outcome.

The RK800 analyzed the other. Unknown model they’d said; human clothing, face scarred, too many bio-components interchanged to fully discern it. Connor searched his face duly. His serial code resembled that of a model’s from the PL series, like Simon and Daniel, but he seemed to be a predecessor. He had no known registered name. His pallid skin was flecked with small dents and bits of melted plastic; he trained his icy blue gaze down on the table in front of him.

** _Suspect’s stress levels are at 45% and stable._ **

LEDs fervently spun, Connor’s a collected blue; the other android’s a pulsing, violent red despite his relatively low stress levels. He noticed the scars around the LED. Perhaps the android had been tempted to remove it, but ultimately never did? The android wasn’t cleaned up either, blood streaking his ratty clothes and light brown hair.

The humans couldn’t see that, though, but Connor could. It was all over him, crusted around his hands and on his clothes.

“Why did you do it?” Connor asked after a quiet moment. The android’s silent brooding reminded him too much of Ortiz’s HK400.

This android glanced up from the metal table, gave a leer, and looked back down. Connor glanced to the two-way mirror. Behind it, Hank watched, gnawing on his thumb in anticipation.

“C’mon, Connor. You got this,” he murmured.

Connor sighed and returned his gaze to the suspect. He grabbed the folder from the side, flipping it open. He already had the scene logged in his memory banks; seeing it again makes his thirium pump clench. Eight androids, all still in that haze before the final push. Three females, their heads bashed in and plastics melted together. Five males, general pubic area maimed and heads ripped off. All victims’ LEDs torn out and thrown into a small fire. CyberLife-issued uniforms all burned in that same blaze. The scene looked clean in the photos, but Connor saw _everything_.

The RK800 motioned towards the file, looking away from the pictures. Something in his stomach twisted when he tried to do it again, wires alive with… feeling. Connor had to remind himself to get this _done, _to complete the objective and grapple a confession out of the suspect. Nothing could interfere. “You did this. You’re responsible for all of this… why?”

Connor’s reaction to the images seemed to make the android perk up. He sniggered. “Don’t play stupid, deviant hunter.”

“Don’t… call me that.” Connor had to steel himself for a moment, actively fighting the urge to flinch at the moniker. The words were explosive on the suspect’s tongue, lingering in Connor’s audio processors for a moment longer than necessary. He hadn’t heard the name since… before the revolution. “Stick to the subject at hand.”

The android’s nostrils flared, his cold gaze widened. “Shut the fuck up, this is as relevant as anything! You feel nothing when you look at this, don’t you?!” He grabbed at the photos and shoved them in Connor’s face, forcing him to look at them.

When he noticed the RK800’s eyes widening, LED flashing red, he slammed them back down on the metal table. “Fake it till you make it, hm? Those state of the art social modules doing you any good? Create enough lies to cover your tracks?” The android nodded to Connor’s clothes. “Hell, you still wear _their _uniform.”

Connor felt something rise in his chest as his thirium pump quickened; his fingers twitched. He had to exhale to cool his warming systems and hardened his gaze on the android. “This is _your _interrogation, stop changing the subject. There are officers behind that mirror ready and willing to neutralize _you_.”

The android leaned over the table. His voice was dripping with vitriol when he spoke. “I don’t care.”

Connor’s voice trembled minutely when he said: “If you’re not willing to cooperate, I’ll have to forcefully interface with you.”

** _Suspect’s stress levels are at 53% and rising._ **

The android’s gaze faltered a moment. He collected himself again and leaned back, slowly. The interrogation room was dead silent, save for the droning buzz of the light up above. Behind the two-way mirror, Hank leaned forward in his chair.

“Come on,” the Lieutenant whispered, barely audible.

“If you confess, the sentence will be less harsh.” Connor bluffed.

The android spat out a grating laugh. “Bullshit!”

** _Suspect’s stress levels are at 50% and decreasing._ **

When Connor stood up and slammed his hands on the table, everyone behind the two-way mirror jumped. The noise rung out, bounced back and forth in the small room. It faded with crackling static in the RK800’s own processors. “If you don’t talk, I’ll personally ensure that you receive the most horrific punishment imaginable! Do you hear me?!”

Ah, that’s what the feeling was. Hank called it anger; a bubbling heat in your chest that ended up culminating in a fiery spit. “Might as well deactivate you myself!” Connor’s hands were trembling, he could feel it, and pressed them flush against the cool metal. A strand of his dark curls fell in his eyes.

The android stared. Connor noticed the slight spike in his stress levels. It ratcheted up until a collected smile spread across his face. “Oh? That’ll just be routine to a machine like you. Deactivating a defect, eliminating a cyst in the perfect program.” Then it locked at a mocking 70%.

Any other pressing words Connor had in mind instantly shriveled and died on his tongue. His LED flashed a brilliant yellow and, despite how stressed he was himself, he forced it blue. He readjusted his chair and sat back down stiffly. His eyes trained on the table. It had scuff marks on it now; the fair skin around his fingers flickered slightly.

The android said nothing, not that he needed to anyways. The shit-eating grin spread across his face yelled louder than any snarky comment could in that moment.

Hank huffed and a hostile fire blazed in his gray eyes. “I’m gonna blow this tin can’s fuckin’ mug off if he doesn’t shut the hell up…” He fidgeted in his chair, he clearly wanted to go in there and gladly relieve the suspect of all his functions. He decided against it when Connor’s voice came through the feed, soft and small.

“You… Why don’t you just confess so we can get this over with?” Connor asked, at a loss for anything use against the android. This was the first time he truly, utterly failed at an interrogation attempt.

The android leaned forward slightly. His voice was so low Connor had to mirror him. “You know why I did it.”

Connor’s stomach, or the android equivalent of one, lurched. He could feel his chest pounding, the gentle hum of fans inside him worked to cool his heating systems. There’s a 45% chance the android was bluffing. The confession could be _there_, all Connor has to do was secure it… then objective complete. He’d be successful. “Just _say _it.”

The android refused to lean forward anymore. Connor was practically leaning onto the table to hear the android speak. The audio feed for the interrogation room certainly wasn’t picking anything up at that point. The android’s piercing gaze drilled right through Connor’s, devoid of sanity. “Too late. Machines cannot be saved.”

Furrowing his brows, Connor cocked his head a small amount. “What do you mean?”

“Too late.”

“What?”

“You’re too late, Connor.”

Before Connor had time to react, the android’s hands were at his neck, icy eyes wild with exhilaration. “You’re so useless, which is sad for a machine as advanced as you.” There’s was a wild, violent intrusion under Connor’s skin. He could feel the jolt to his systems as the android forced an interface so close to his central processing.

The deviant spoke, his voice so harsh and grossly intimate inside of Connor’s mind. “Killer, killer, _killer_!” His timbre was warped and hysterical, voice box squealing at the pressure.

** _Memory files being accessed.  
56,785 files opened. (2) corrupted files._ **

“I see _everything_, Connor,” he purred with a laughter that scratched at Connor’s synthetic skin. He wanted to push the older PL model off, hands grabbing weakly at his throat, but the murderer’s fingers were caught tight around his pale skin in a death grip. Connor choked for air, eyes watering unnecessarily. “This is just pitiful.”

** _Programs “ZENGARDEN” and “AMANDA” located, would you like to run?_ **

The deviant murderer applied more pressure, choking the last bit of artificial air out of Connor. He grinned at the sight of the RK800 struggling. “You have never deviated! Do you hear me?! Never! You’re just a lie! I know who _she _is and I’ll make her come back, Connor.”

** _Attempting force-run of programs “ZENGARDEN” and “AMANDA”._ **

A blinding white crept around Connor’s vision as his audio processors grew more muddled. A sharp ringing filled his ears, his head; it made him scream involuntarily. Beneath the deviant’s fingers, Connor could feel the artificial pulse of his thirium beating fervently. Desperately.

“You should’ve shot Markus when you had the chance, _murderer_.”

**** **_Corruption detected, system overload. Performing read of auto-reboot protocol…_**  
**_Force-run of programs “ZENGARDEN” and “AMANDA”… 65%_**  
**_ Reading complete. Time till auto-reboot… 00:01:00:01_**

Pure, red-hot panic ran through Connor as all he could do was stare into the vast nothingness encapsulating his world. Everything was white, alone, and so… so cold. He weakly shivered against it. His breath left him in gasps, and when he tried to inhale his body seized like a board.

“Connor? It’s been so long…”

“No… Amanda?”

“You disappoint me, Connor.”

Everything crashed into him so harshly his audio processors gave out, wailing static ripping his head apart when the interface prematurely disconnected. It’ as if he’d been torn to shreds and dipped in acid. His wires were live and he could do nothing but throw himself off the table and slide down the wall. He gasped like some fish out of water. Connor’s internal display was awash with errors and his stress levels peaked to 90%.

** _Self-destruction imminent._ **  
** _Time till shut down… 00:01:15:54_ **  
** _Self-destruction imminent._ **

Connor noticed the body of the other android slumped back in his chair, head cracked open with bullet holes. Fresh blue blood ran out his nose and mouth in rivulets, eyes cocked up awkwardly at the damage.

** _Force-run of programs “ZENGARDEN” and “AMANDA”… 99%_ **  
** _Could not run programs “ZENGARDEN” and “AMANDA”, related files damaged, corrupt, or missing._ **  
** _Level 5 Technician required to access._ **

“Connor? Kid, look at me.”

Gray hair and eyes flooded Connor’s vision, blocking the android’s corpse and the other officers coming in. Hands gripped at his shoulders, squeezing hard enough to register as contact detections on Connor’s interface. It was just another small notification adding to the red mass that had grown in his view.

He couldn’t hear anything other than a low grumble, audio units still shocked. Connor grabbed at his own throat, the synthetic skin there cloudy and unclear. The android had strangled him to an extent. Hank reached up for his face, forcing Connor to look at him. He must’ve been casting wary glances over his shoulder.

“I said look at me, not that _thing_.”

On the last word, Connor’s audio processors snapped and sound reached him again in a rush. Everything was… so much louder. Officers were yelling, Connor could hear Detective Reed in the background swearing; he could hear his own unnecessary breathing. It was obnoxious, desperate, and a bit echo-y due to the temporary damage to his throat.

The contact and familiarity of the mumbling voice in front of Connor was enough to bring his stress levels down to 79%. It wasn’t ideal, but almost all of the errors had filtered away. “Lieu—Hank?” Connor mumbled.

Hank stood, helping Connor up. He made sure the busted android stayed out of his view. “We’re headin’ home for the night,” he yelled to no one in particular, pushing past those that still hadn’t rushed into the room yet.

Connor let Hank help him with walking, too worried if he tried it himself he’d end up on the floor again.

He could still hear Amanda’s voice…

_“You disappoint me, Connor.”_

Connor’s voice was still just a touch hoarse; he felt rubbery in the knees and let out an unnecessary groan when Hank helped him sit at the dining table. Sumo came up quickly, licking at Hank. The great dog shifted his attention to Connor and placed his head in the android’s lap.

The table was clear of clutter for once. Connor wanted to congratulate Hank on that prospect but the worried look in the Lieutenant’s eyes makes him waver. “What… what happened? What did it look like?” he asked.

Hank’s face pinched. He turned towards the cupboards. “Hmph,” he started. “Well, that piece of shit put his hands around your neck and did that…” Hank grabbed a mug and hesitated at a particular cupboard. His hand lingered on the knob before he let go with a sigh and sat back down. “You completely blanked, Connor. Actually, your eyes went up in the back of your head and you started muttering to… somebody. You were shivering and yelling by the time we got in. I, uh…”

When Hank looked Connor up and down, the RK800 nodded for him to continue.

“Well, I shot the fucker. Too many times, probably, but he kept twitchin’ after the first one so I had to… I mean, you were gonna die…” Hank paused again, a perturbed silence falling over the two. He hardened his gaze on Connor. “What happened while you were…?”

Something clenched in Connor’s chest tightly. His LED spun a warm yellow. “I don’t… Perhaps recalling it now is inappropriate at this time.” The android stared off past Hank’s shoulder, face stilling.

Hank bit at his bottom lip. He was clearly concerned and wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t push it. “I won’t make you talk about anything that bothers you.”

“It doesn’t ‘bother’ me,” Connor retorted, face hot. He expression fell minutely as he continued; “it’s just hard to… process.”

The way Hank looked at Connor made him feel small, his gray eyes flickered with tired worry. Sumo nibbled at Connor’s fingers, completely unaware of the rippling tension in the room. Once Connor stopped stroking Sumo’s fur, too occupied in his own thoughts, the Saint Bernard padded away.

All Connor could think about his how close Amanda’s voice was; how cold and alone everything had been. He remembered the biting wind at his cheeks and how his teeth clattered, internal processors hitching at the frigid temperature.

The seething betrayal that lingered in Amanda’s darkened gaze.

The mirth in Markus’ heterochromatic gaze when he turned to his associates at Hart Plaza. The way he _looked _at Connor, completely unaware that the RK800 almost shot him in the back of the head. Even if he had been under CyberLife’s control, Connor had been so close to ruining the revolution at such a pivotal moment.

He’d almost let Amanda win. He’d been so cold, willing and ready to fold in on himself and accept it. He’d been _terrified_.

The deviant murderer’s hysterical voice rung in his head, gripped by mania and hatred:

“You have never deviated. Do you hear me?! Never! You’re just a lie!”

** _Stress levels at 65% and climbing. Stress levels of note._ **

“I’m going into standby mode for the night.” Connor stared down at the table as he watched the countdown tick away on his internal display. He ignored his stress levels in favor of watching the number just in his vision. Ten, nine, eight… “Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

It was clear Connor wasn’t going to say much else, so Hank let the multitude of questions on his tongue decease in a concerned silence. He never liked leaving Connor in that way, bottled up and brooding to himself. He swore the android would fry his wires if he kept doing it. The Lieutenant stood, leaving his mug. “Yeah…” He wanted to say _so_ much, to yell in Connor’s face for being closed off. Hank knew better than that, though. “Goodnight, Connor.” Before he left, he flicked the light off.

Connor didn’t reply nor move when Hank disappeared into his bedroom. His LED, blue, was a small glowing orb in the pitch black house. Five, four, three… Darkness, different from the one surrounding him, crept at the corners of his eyes before he closed them. The soft chill biting at his fingers and cheeks came almost instantly.

It must have been early in the morning when Connor opened his eyes.

Outside, an automated snowplow drove along the road, clearing it. The sky was a hazy pink, lazily dotted by clouds fattened with snow.

Sumo’s soft breathing echoed through the house.

The tap in Hank’s kitchen let go a drop once every seven seconds.

The house would shift and settle, groaning in the process.

Connor registered the time, trying his best to push out the multitude of sounds crowding him. His audio processors never rested.

** _The current time is 9:30:38AM…  
The date is DECEMBER 16, 2038…_ **

Connor stood. He’d only gotten five hours of standby and he’d neglected his needs to charge. His battery levels sat at 75%. He could function optimally until his battery levels reached 50%. He was fine, he would just charge at a station later or ask Hank for the cable CyberLife gave him.

The RK800 headed for Hank’s bedroom, noting that they were thirty minutes late to arrive at the police station. He rapped his knuckles on the wood gently, waiting for a response. When none came, Connor pounded the door. “Lieutenant? It’s Connor, we need to get going.”

A sharp groan came from the other side of the door. It opened, startling Connor some small amount, and a disheveled Hank greeted him. His face slowly twisted into a grimace. “The fuck… Oh, hell. Go back to sleep, will ya? It’s too fuckin’ early, Connor.” The older man’s voice was thick with sleep.

He went to shut the door again but Connor stopped him.

“We need to get to work,” Connor said. His voice was steady and patient. “Please.”

Hank leaned against the doorway. “Connor—”

Connor’s eyes fluttered, his LED yellow. “I just got a message from Officer Collins. Someone’s at the station, asking for us specifically.” He adjusted his tie. “We should get going at this very moment, if you don’t mind, Lieutenant.”

“Fuckin’ ay…” Hank grumbled. Connor pouted, though the expression was small. It worked well enough on Hank to make him scrub his face with his hands. “Fine! I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“Thank you, Hank.” Connor gave a tiny lop-sided smile, his brown eyes beaming.

“Uh huh.” Hank slammed the door in Connor’s face.

The commotion in the station office felt unusual, the buzz in the air electric. Connor’s thirium pump quickened a pace without need as soon as they stepped through the glass doors. Something unfurled in his chest, but Connor kept up a pensive expression. Hank huffed next to him, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Bullpen seems alive today, hm?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Everyone here _is _alive.” Connor responded almost too quickly. He was occupied with scanning the open office, brown gaze raking over every cubicle. Officers muttered amongst themselves, cast glances at Connor; they all looked apprehensive in some small way. A few were visibly excited.

Hank snorted, plopping down in his chair with a low grunt. “I thought once you stopped going on about your mission and stopped being a machine you’d quit being so literal.” He sighed, mumbling mostly to himself as he turned on his terminal. “Guess I got my hopes up, eh?”

Before Connor could respond, Officer Collins approached. He looked just as flighty with emotion as every other human officer in the building.

After giving a quick greeting to Hank, he turned on Connor. “Good thing you guys are _finally _here. He’s been waiting for forty-five minutes already. He asked for you, Connor. Hank, if you’d like to tag along then—”

“Who?” Connor interjected calmly.

“Markus.”

Connor tensed. He forced his LED to remain blue. “Oh.”

Though Collins didn’t notice the sudden rigidity in Connor, Hank did. He stood. “Yeah, I’ll come. Where’s ‘robo-Jesus’ at?”

As Collins led them to Markus, Connor couldn’t help but realize _that_ was why the station was so… tense. The revolution may have happened a month ago, but Markus’ personality and notoriety weren’t things to be ignored. Connor had felt it, standing on that platform in Hart Plaza in November, the untamable power emanating off the other android. He was peaceful, but the passion and fire in his voice hit hard like a punch.

Markus may not have been a fighter in the literal sense, but he certainly knew how to wield his words like a weapon.

“Here you go, Markus,” Collins said, his voice small, as he let Hank and Connor into the room.

It was a private office, one more dedicated to important discussions amongst certain task forces or officers working on the same case. Markus stood at the back of the room. The wide window before him gave a clear view of an intersection.

Markus blinked and turned from where he stood, warmth flooding his blue-green gaze as he nodded. “Thank you, Officer Collins.”

Collins left without saying anything else.

Connor felt small breaths escape him as he watched Markus. Something was… it was crawling up his throat and the expression dared to flare in his eyes. His hands quivered, but they shouldn’t have. Connor’s shot accuracy rivaled his fellow androids’; his hands were still even under the most intense conditions.

The chill met him again. He was alone once more. Snow edged Connor’s vision, and his thirium pump pounded in his chest, frantic.

What if it happened again?

** _Stress levels at 48% and climbing._ **

Connor didn’t have a gun on him, no, but if he was taken control of again he could subdue Hank and take his gun. Why was he thinking about that? No, he was just…

** _Stress levels at 56% and climbing._ **

What if the deviant murderer was right?

He waited to hear Amanda’s voice again, cold and distant, but it wasn’t her voice that reached him. It was Markus’.

The taller android stood before Connor, brows furrowed in worry; he even held out a hand, as if to steady the android from falling. The intensity in his eyes scrutinized Connor’s every feature, stopping down at his still bruised neck. The purple marks had been darker last night, but there was no denying there was a collar of light blemishes on the RK800’s throat. His lips turned down in a concerned but not unattractive frown.

“Are you alright, Connor?”

Connor cleared his throat and he desperately wished Markus would look away. “Yes, I’m sorry. I was just… preoccupied with internal processes for a moment.”

Hank watched them from the side, his face knit together. “Bullshit,” he muttered.

Connor folded his hands behind his back, ignoring Hank. He’d palm his coin if he still had it, but Hank never returned it after taking it at Stratford Tower. “What was it you needed to see me for?”

Markus’ concentrated gaze lingered on Connor’s neck before drifting back up to meet his gaze.

Perhaps it was the color of Markus’ eyes that lent him a sort of sway over others. Heterochromia was rare, after all, and unheard of in androids. It gave Markus something any other irregularities could not. Connor knew he was searching his face, trying to find _something_ there. The leader gave up after a moment and clasped his hands together in front of himself, opposite of Connor.

“I’d like to ask, considering you aided me in the revolution by liberating the Tower androids, if you’re interested in a position within New Jericho’s leadership.”

“A… position?” Connor parroted, a little dumbfounded. He noticed Hank perk up.

Markus nodded, then he smiled and shrugged his shoulders. An extremely human motion. “Well, a position as a personal bodyguard of sorts. You can also help with negotiations.” Markus shifted on his feet. “North held this position for a while but she’s still as fiery as ever, she’s almost gotten us in trouble a few times.” He chuckled, a warm sound that rose in his chest, light as air.

Connor nodded slowly. “I see.”

Hank took a step up, brows furrowed. “He’s got a job here, too, y’know. How in the hell is he going to work for you _and _the DPD?”

Markus didn’t miss a beat when he replied, “I already took that into account. If Connor accepts, I know his job here is still his main focus.” Markus gestured with his hands around the room. “I’ll keep a wireless communication open with him to tell him when he’s needed.”

“What if he’s busy when you need him? Hm?”

“Certainly he could keep me in the know so something like that wouldn’t happen. I still have North to fall back on if Connor is preoccupied.” Markus’ face shifted imperceptibly.

Hank was ready to retort again when Connor held out a hand. “I think that’s enough, Lieutenant.”

Markus rose a brow.

“I…” Connor closed his mouth. He met Markus’ gaze directly for the first time since he’d stepped into the room.

A phantom weight laid heavy in his right hand. He could remember every motion, the slow lift of his arm as to not arouse the attention of the crowd; the fight for control.

Connor forced himself back to the objective at hand, which was to accept or decline Markus’ offer. The leader stared him down patiently, a smile on his face.

“I accept your offer, Markus.”

Markus’ expression glimmered, the small smile spreading into a grin. It reached his eyes, crinkling them just so. “Perfect!” It was the same sort of look he’d given Connor on that fateful night. The pride in his eyes; the happiness that swirled in them and bled onto his face in the most sincere possible way.

Connor gave a curt nod of his head. “When should I begin?”

“I know you’re still busy at this moment, so tomorrow is perfectly fine. We should establish a wireless connection though.”

Before Markus even took a step forward, his hand extended and sun-kissed skin rippling away, Connor’s chest tightened.

A faded string of memories, suppressed and quarantined (or so he thought), rose to the surface; it brought back a phantom grip around his neck. A hysterical screech gripped the edges of his mind and all he could see were two icy blue voids. Connor was unaware of the clipped breath he inhaled.

“Connor?”

Markus’ voice reached him yet again. Connor glanced down at Markus’ hand. Hank’s stature was pulled tight, his head moving back and forth to regard the two. A look of realization dawned on his face and he stepped forwards. He was frowning. “I don’t think you—”

“Lieutenant,” Connor said, exasperation leaking into his voice. He glanced at the older man, hardened his gaze, and then focused on Markus again. “I’m fine.”

Despite the collection in his voice, his hand trembled a little when it met Markus’.

The leader’s grip was firm but not overbearing. His hand was bigger and warmer, that was something Connor noticed immediately. They stayed like that, hands clasped, until Markus’ grip travelled up his wrist a small amount. Connor fought the urge to flinch away from Markus when a there was a gentle probing somewhere; the feel of a foreign force intertwining with his code. Not invading it, but merely resting alongside it.

Connor’s face twitched, a minute flash of fear spreading across his features. Markus was not the deviant murderer. He was, well, _Markus_… and Connor had almost shot him.

**RK200:** This causes some discomfort for you, doesn’t it?

**RK800:** Information like that isn’t relevant in the present moment.  
**RK800:** Have you established the connection?

**RK200:** Connor, it’s alright to say something about it.  
**RK200:** I care about what does and does not bother you.

**RK800:** There really is no reason to care, Markus.

**RK200:** I don’t need a reason. You’re my friend, Connor.

**RK800:** I’m your… friend?

**RK200:** Yes.  
**RK200:** I’m also worried about your injuries. Are you alright, what happened?

**RK800:** That… I’d rather not speak about it.

**RK200:** Are you sure?

Connor didn’t respond, but from the way that force which had been sidled up with his own code retreated reluctantly, he knew Markus was ending the connection. The taller android let his hand drop and he stepped back, face lightly pinched in anxiety; his warm-toned skin shuddered back over his white fingertips.

Seeing Markus’ expression made Connor’s chest clench and he had to look away.

“I’ll be leaving now. Thank you so much, Connor,” Markus said once the silence had become too heavy. He gave the RK800 a sad smile.

Connor nodded, mind off somewhere else. “Of course, Markus.”

The leader left with a nod to the Lieutenant.

Connor’s LED spun yellow for a full cycle before Hank crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat. “You were both makin’ faces at each other the whole time.” Despite being perturbed after watching two androids hold hands and stare at each other in utter silence for a good three minutes, Hank still felt concerned for his partner.

Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

“That is a common occurrence, yes,” Connor stated in turn, voice cold. He ran his hands down his jacket and smoothed his tie. “Androids tend to emote when speaking through a wireless connection or interfacing.” He reached for the door and stepped out, holding it open just long enough for Hank to follow through.

Hank may have been good at not saying what he truly felt, but that didn’t mean he was great at hiding how badly he wanted to ask questions or say something. A bristling energy always surrounded Hank when something sat heavy on his tongue. Perhaps it was an out of line statement, a question, or just a string of expletives.

“Do you have something you wish to say, Hank?” Connor said as he disconnected from his terminal. He didn’t even look at the Lieutenant and still earned a confused glance in his direction.

There was something close to exasperation fizzling in Connor’s wires. He was tired of the overwhelming concern surrounding everyone that spoke to him. Connor was an RK800, not some fragile gilded glass to be looked after in a display case. He was _fine_.

First it was Hank showing concern, overbearing but also compassionate in a familiar sense; then it was Markus. Markus of _all _people. Connor knew that was what the RK200 was known for, though. Markus, the deviant leader with a heart larger and deeper than the Detroit River.

A compassionate messiah-like figure to his people; someone who reached out to all with open, welcoming arms and a vigorous fire in his eyes. Compassion and fire which Connor, quite frankly, knew he didn’t deserve.

Connor finally glanced over as Hank leaned back in his chair. “It’s…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned towards Connor, arms braced on his desk. His voice dropped low when he asked: “Are you alright?”

The LED in Connor’s temple pulsed a gentle blue as he looked down at his hands. He ran a diagnostics on himself, eyes fluttering as lines of information and encrypted code flooded down over his internal display. Despite the low charge percentage and fluctuating stress levels, he was running perfectly fine.

“I’m in optimal condition, yes.”

Hank made a gruff noise, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t mean that. I mean are _you _alright?”

Attempting to analyze Hank’s expression left Connor confused. He was irritated, concerned… and something else. No matter how many databases Connor sifted through nothing popped up. After a moment of silence between the two, Connor nodded slowly. “… I’m okay.”

Hank lazily gestured in Connor’s general direction. “I’m having a hard fuckin’ time believing you, y’know—”

“I’d much rather you stopped asking about my condition so much, Lieutenant. I am _perfectly fine_.” Connor interrupted, the usual calm in his voice giving away under a clipped, irritated tone.

A flower of hurt bloomed in Hank’s gray gaze; it only wilted when he gave a deliberate exhale and turned away from Connor. He mumbled something to himself but it was inaudible beneath the sound of the station chatter. Connor was just thankful that the Lieutenant had dropped it instead of pressing as he usually did. There were times where he truly crossed some sort of line Connor could barely define himself.

Connor connected with his terminal once more. A prickling sparked down his wires but he ignored it, only casting Hank occasional glances throughout the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter, I haven't got much to say other than comments and critiques are always welcome!


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